A Good Daughter
by story-untold15
Summary: This begins almost like Children of the Dark.  Emily meets a teenage girl who is the only survivor of a grisly murder.  This time, will she be able to take her home? No pairings at the beginning. H/P later most likely.
1. Chapter 1

**So I decided to try writing this story. I have no idea how long it will be. I just got home from school, sat at my computer, and started typing. This is my first foray into Criminal Minds fan fiction, and I must say, I have some pretty big shoes to fill! Also, unfortunately, I do not own Criminal Minds. With that said, on with the story!**

Cammi Carroway paced in front of the high school, impatiently jabbing the keys on her cell phone. Her parents were supposed to pick her up an hour ago from her debate meet, and their tardiness was grating on her already dwindling patience. Darkness was creeping over the sidewalk. Sighing, Cammi glanced at the numbers illuminated on her phone. It was edging on eleven o' clock at night, much too late to be out, especially with the recent rash of murders that had plagued her tiny hometown in Pennsylvania. Sure, they were usually a result of break ins, but that didn't mean she was about to take chances. A serial killer could be hiding out in the chem labs on the other side of the building, for all she knew.

"Stop it!" she whispered fiercely. Working herself into a panic would do nothing for the current situation.

Her best friend Crystal was on vacation, a sort of break from the September glum. Other than that, there was absolutely no one she could call. _Except my parents,_ she silently fumed.

Once again, she tried the house phone. Receiving no response except the cheesy answering machine message they had recorded last year, Cammi pressed the end button in disgust. She was well aware that Tommy had a soccer game that her parents just had to attend, but that should have ended ages ago.

When her dad's cell phone put her straight to voicemail, Cammi shouted "Fine! This is the tenth time I've tried calling you. It's either sit here and freeze or walk!"

Knowing her father would be angry with her for walking home in the dark, Cammi pulled her jean jacket tighter around her slender shoulders. Her long brown hair whipped around her face in the oncoming breeze. She hadn't realized exactly how cold she was until this very minute. In order to warm herself up, she began to jog.

Home was only a few miles away, but that night, it seemed endless. Every slap of her Converse on the pavement resonated through the clear night like the strike of a gong. Closing her eyes, Cammi let out a breath. Every horror movie she had ever watched flashed against the back of her eyelids, set against a backdrop of blood and shadow. She and her mom would curl up on the couch with a bowl of Doritos and scream at the characters that made foolish choices. Say, the high school freshman running alone at night. She almost laughed, imagining the comments her mom would hurl at the screen if this moment were a horror movie.

At once, her street materialized before her eyes. Breathing a sigh of relief, Cammi darted down it, passing the familiar basketball hoop lying broken in the ditch. The frayed net grasped at the chilled air. To Cammi, it seemed as though the aged string were pointing to her house.

For some reason unknown to her, she increased her speed, shedding her messenger bag somewhere in the middle of the road. Her mom's car sat parked in the driveway. A set of keys laid glimmering in the asphalt beside it. Bending over, Cammi scooped the cool metal in her hand, stroking the braided lanyard keychain she had created one year in Sunday school. The beaded letters had fallen from the rope, lying scattered across the garage.

Pocketing the keys, she edged inside, rolling her feet the way she did whenever she wanted to walk slowly. It was a trick she had picked up in marching band, the geek that she was. Tommy was constantly making fun of her for it. He always said the voices in her head provided a tune she just had to keep in step with. Smiling once before a mask of anger settled over her face, Cammi threw open the door, wincing when it smashed into the drywall.

A dull pain rippled from a spot beneath her heel. Automatically, Cammi grabbed her ankle to identify the problem. Swearing, she picked a shard of glass from her shoe.

"What the…" Looking down, she took a step backward. Tiny bits of glass sprinkled the ground like droplets of rain. "Tommy, what did you break this time?" she demanded.

A crash echoed from her parent's room. A lithe shadow slipped across the space she could see from the open door. Cammi's breath hitched in her suddenly dry throat.

"Mom? Dad? Tommy?"

Breathless, she sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. The door to Tommy's room was closed, something not unusual, considering the war zone state it was constantly in. What was odd though, was the lack of metal music blaring from his stereo.

"Hey Tommy! Did you win?" She called tentatively. Nobody answered. Creeping closer, Cammi's fingers closed over the knob. It was warm, as if someone had touched it recently.

A streak of light coming from the desk beside his door momentarily blinded Cammi. Blinking, she stepped inside, her foot crushing a pizza box.

"NOOOOOO!" She screamed in a voice raw with horror.

Her brother lay spread eagled over a mass of clothes, blood dripping from his chest. Pressing a hand to her mouth, Cammi turned from the scene, stomach heaving.

Flying around the railing, Cammi tumbled down the stairs. Her parents lay sprawled over their normally pristine room, blood staining the hardwood floor a deep red. Her heartbeat quickened as she scanned the room. The phones had been slashed from the lines, cell phones nowhere to be found. Patting her pockets for her own, she remembered stashing it in the front pocket of her backpack after hanging it up back at the school. She was about to run for the road when something growled from somewhere near the bathroom. Frightened, Cammi sprinted up the stairs, lunging for the front door. Something slapped on the glass from the other side.

Closing her eyes, Cammi said a quick prayer to a God she was sure had fled this horrific scene. Whoever had killed her family was still in this house. Well, actually, awaiting her outside. Surely if she didn't attempt an escape soon, he would come in after her.

Until recently, Cammi's worst irrational fear had been of clowns. Ever since she had read Stephen King's _It _a few weeks ago, she had imagined the painted face of one of those satanic beasts around every corner. It was that face she imagined pounding on the other side of the door now. That face fueled her step.

She pictured Pennywise chasing her through the house, claws outstretched. _Wanna come play Cammi? Every thing floats down here Cammi!_ He whispered. Whimpering, she scrambled into the bathroom, huddling in the closet.

Now, even though she was beginning to doubt it, Cammi wasn't your average horror movie moron. She never would have picked the closet without a specific purpose. She would not be easy prey.

When she was little, Cammi's had been obsessed with Harry Potter. Upon finding out that their house lacked a cupboard under the stairs, she had been devastated. Her father had told her about what he claimed was the next best thing. The perfect hiding spot for any serious hide and seek player. It was there she climbed now, pulling the false ceiling aside and hoisting herself into the crawlspace above the bathroom. Virtually undetectable to the untrained eye, and further concealed by a mess of towels on the shelf, she felt safe in these walls, or as safe as one could possibly be at a time like this.

Clutching the screwdriver her father had carelessly abandoned the last time he'd attempted to make repairs, Cammi curled into the fetal position in the corner. As she replaced the towels and pulled the crawlspace door shut, she closed her eyes and allowed the tears to flow. She remained completely silent, an ear trained on the precarious floor she laid on, waiting with bated breath for the slightest noise.

**So, what did you think? I think the team should be coming in around the next chapter. I will try to update regularly, at least weekly, and I would love to know what people think. Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I wasn't going to update this yet, but the procrastinator in me who doesn't want to do her homework told me to. Sorry this is so short! I don't think this is as good as the first chapter. I'm much better with my own characters. Still, a review would make me so happy! They're so much more fun to look at than research papers!**

Several hours after Cammi had made her awful discovery, the BAU team was en route to Pennsylvania, the site of the latest string of murders they would investigate. In fact, they hadn't even bothered going over the case in the war room, instead choosing to head straight to the jet.

"So, what are we looking at here?" Morgan asked.

"Over the last several weeks, there have been a series of break-ins in Sunset Falls, Pennsylvania," JJ explained to the team. "The police thought it was standard robbery, until the bodies started piling up."

"Has there been any sign of a pattern?" Prentiss asked.

"That's why they called us. During the last three break-ins, two families were murdered. A mother, father, son, and daughter."

"The stereotypical American family," Reid muttered darkly.

"What was taken?" Prentiss broke in.

"Standard stuff. Jewelry, wedding rings, anything that could be perceived as valuable," JJ replied, handing out a pile of folders detailing their case.

"Look at the mutilation done to these bodies," Reid said. "From the looks of it, the damage appears to have been done post mortem."

"What was the official cause of death?" Hotch inquired.

"The medical examiner is still determining that," JJ said. "He doesn't appear to discriminate. As you can see, one family is Hispanic, and the other one is white. Both are on totally different socioeconomic levels."

"Any connection between the victims?" Rossi asked.

"It's a small town," JJ sighed. "Everyone's connected in one way or another."

Prentiss stared at the pictures of the mutilated bodies on her lap. The parents appeared to have received the most damage, slashes of red disfiguring their bodies. The children's faces were blue, most likely strangled. As much as she might try, she couldn't pretend to understand a person willing to snuff the life of an innocent child. She sighed. Due to some inner instinct, she could always tell when a case would be bad. All of them were bad, of course, but she had a nagging feeling that this would affect her more than the others. Selfish as she may be thinking this, she couldn't help the thought that her team didn't deserve this. They had already come back from so much.

She watched Hotch stare for a moment at a picture of the six-year-old boy lying on his bed. Jack was almost exactly his age. She didn't want Hotch to go through the pain of another child case. They always affected him the most, even though he never admitted it.

The shrill beep of a cell phone drew her away from her thoughts. Prentiss watched as JJ stepped away to answer her phone. The call lasted only a few seconds. A few clipped sentences later, JJ returned to sit beside her, face pinched.

"What's wrong JJ?" she asked.

Sighing once again, JJ turned to face the team. "There's been another murder. Exact same victimology. The Carroways were found dead in their home this morning by a neighbor's runaway dog. The son was strangled, parents stabbed repeatedly."

Reid's eyebrows arched. "They don't have a daughter?"

"That's the problem." JJ's eyes closed. "They do. Cameron Carroway, a freshman at the local high school. She's nowhere to be found."

"He's resorted to kidnapping? That doesn't fit with his previous actions."

"Well, we haven't gone over much yet," Morgan pointed out. "These crimes have no pattern, except for the traditional family preference and how they die."

"He's fixated on America's idea of the perfect family," Prentiss pointed out, expanding on Reid's previous comment. "Maybe he's had trouble with that in the past? Perhaps had it and then lost it?"

"If Prentiss is right, then that could be the trigger," Hotch suggested. "But we can't assume anything until we get more information. Prentiss and I will go to the crime scene when we land. Reid, you work victimology. JJ and Rossi will go talk to the families of the other victims. It could be that they know the killer. Most importantly, we have to figure out where that little girl is."

**I'll be going on vacation for the next two weeks, so in the high likelihood that I don't have internet access, this is the last update for awhile, unless I crank one out before Friday. Also, if something is off about someone's character or you have a suggestion, I'm open to anything, as long as you're kind. Really, I need help! Reviews are an author's best tool!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Since I felt that I did much better writing from Cammi's point of view, I think I'll try to do that this chapter. Tell me what you think!**

_Footsteps._

Footsteps pacing the floor below her like a herd of elephants.

_Voices._

Voices murmuring below her.

_Words._

Words she strained to catch, but she could only pick up fractions of them at a time. She tried to fit them together, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but the pieces she could hear spread before her, as useless and dangerous as the broken glass shards she had discovered just last night.

Who was in her house?

What was in her house?

What did they want, after they had taken so much already?

Cammi wanted to cry out, to show them that they had forgotten someone. Why couldn't she have gone with them? Her family, who she hoped was safe among the stars.

_So cold…_

Her dad had never bothered to insulate up here. So seldom did anyone venture up.

_So tired…_

She wanted to sleep. Close her dust laden eyes forever and sink into nothingness. Was that so much to ask? But something kept them open, staring into nothing, counting the frozen insects scattered over the floor.

She shivered in her little nook, frozen to the spot, unable to keep the images at bay. What had Tommy been thinking in his last moments? Had he begged for his life, or had he been so occupied with his computer games that he had never seen it coming?

_Can't cry._

She couldn't. She begged herself to. Willed those tears burning behind her eyelids to soak her cheeks, a tangible representation of grief.

But she couldn't. Cammi couldn't even muster the energy to think in complete sentences. The voices below her continued, life speeding ahead of the freezing girl above them. Somebody barked an order, and she flinched.

"Found…backpack…struggle?" she heard someone say. Their voice floated through her consciousness. None of the few strands of a sentence she could catch held any real meaning for her anymore.

_Get. Up._

She tried. She really did. Her limbs creaked, the sound sending her huddling back into the floor. Why was she afraid of noise? Did she really care if they found her?

_Gone._

That was the crux of it. They were gone, and with them, Cammi herself. The only thing left to understand was why her body was still here, when her soul desperately yearned to be with them. No more fighting with Tommy. She remembered getting so angry at him sometimes. White hot fury coursed through her veins, spilling out in the form of hateful words.

_So…sorry…_

Even before he had… Well before she had left for school that day they had fought. It was stupid. Something about whose turn it was to feed the goldfish. She had been running late. Had to practice her lines one last time, to ensure flawless delivery at her meet. He had been kicking the soccer ball around, savoring the last few bearable days before winter set in. They had exchanged some hurtful words. She forced herself to forget what they were.

_So sorry…_

He had shot her the finger, just as she was stowing her script safely in her backpack. In retaliation, she had grabbed the ball, aiming it right for his stomach. She hadn't hurt him. Not physically. Maybe not even emotionally. Not much anyway. But she would hold that angered glare she had last seen him with for years to come.

_Stupid. So stupid._

She would give anything for a second chance. A chance to relive the golden days of autumns past, when they would finish their homework and kick around the soccer ball until their mom called them in for dinner. When Tommy would ask to sleep in her bed, because he'd woken up from a terrible nightmare.

She wished she would wake up.

_Why can't I cry for them? _

Cammi couldn't force the tears past her eyelids, no matter how many times she blinked. Her fingers tightened around the screwdriver she held in her palm, remembering the raw fear she had felt the night before. It had ebbed, giving way to the emptiness she felt now.

This thing, this monster, had done this before. She had heard of the families killed. None of the children had been in the Carroway's social circle, but she had seen the sadness spreading like an illness through the school.

How could he have done this so many times? Inflicted so much pain for seemingly no reason! Tommy had just started middle school. He was on the honor roll, planning to pick up track after soccer ended. Her parents, they were normal people who loved their kids. Her dad took her fishing, even when she swore she'd outgrown those weekend trips. Her mom was always there to talk to; even when Cammi was sure she didn't need her. There wasn't an evil bone in any of their bodies. None of them deserved this.

Cammi gripped the screwdriver tighter in her ice cold hands. It was the only thing tethering her to the present. Without it, she mused, she might be lost completely.

If she wasn't already. Who was she without them? Why had they left her behind?

_Why didn't you kill me too? _She wailed internally, before giving way to harsh, long overdue sobs.

Emily wandered away from the chaos of the investigation. She cringed as she heard the zip of the body bag, officially ending the misery of the poor little boy whose life had been stolen.

She wandered into his sister's room. Cameron had an eclectic taste: that was for sure. The walls had been painted bright purple, posters of everything from Harry Potter to Linkin Park covering the walls. A small model of the Hogwarts Express sat on a desk that most likely wasn't used for doing work. She had painted glow in the dark stars on her ceiling, which sloped down on one side to a shelf filled with books in all genres.

A flute case lay on the bed, along with a stack of music. Cammi had plastered stickers of music notes all over her folders, and half finished drawings covered the free space of her walls.

It was the bedroom of a normal teenage girl. Emily shuddered to think of what she was going through now. Still, nothing lent a clue as to where the bastard had taken her.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Too much for you?" Hotch asked.

"I just can't fathom why he would take a girl. That doesn't match his profile."

"We don't know very much about him yet," he replied. When Emily didn't answer, he shook her gently. "What's wrong?"

Seeming to snap out of it, she jumped. "Nothing. I just thought I heard something." His hand still lingered on her shoulder. Not too long ago, she would have found this odd, but with the easy friendship they had formed since Haley died, such things were commonplace.

There it was again! A sort of sobbing, quietly echoing through the walls. Hope filled her heart.

"Hotch, listen."

He obliged. Soon he could hear it. The almost ghostly wail of impossible loss.

They exchanged a confused glance. "Do you think she found somewhere to hide?" Hotch asked.

Emily shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

The footsteps were drawing closer now. Cammi did her best to stifle the fierce crying, but the tears flowed on. Cursing her body for not obeying her, she eased herself into a wobbly standing position. The closet door directly below opened with a creak. Rage hazed Cammi's vision. Whoever was down there, they would pay for taking Tommy and her parents away.

She wondered briefly how much damage a screwdriver could do. Last night, it was all she had. Merely a defense against the horror awaiting her. Today, she was prepared to kill.

"I found something!" someone yelled. She hadn't the focus to determine the gender. Cammi heard the trapdoor ease open, saw a blurred shape emerge. Her tears distorted the entire image.

"Cameron Carroway?" the voice inquired. Cammi's fingers clenched.

"Don't come any closer," she rasped.

"Cameron, my name is Emily Prentiss. I'm from the FBI. I'm here to help."

"You're lying."

"It's okay. You're safe now."

"It will never be okay," Cammi whispered. The person, Emily Prentiss, took a step forward.

"We have to get you out of here," she said.

Cammi squeezed her eyes shut. The woman's voice reminded her of her mother's. Caring, as if the only thing that would ever concern her was Cammi's safety. She watched the woman walk forward, and didn't bother drawing back.

"Watch your step," Cammi mumbled. "It's not safe up here." The tears were messing up her vision. She could scarcely make out the shape of anything. The screwdriver fell to the floor with a soft clatter.

The next thing she knew, she was on the floor bawling, and the agent's arms surrounded her. If she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she could pretend that it was her mother, assuring her that this was nothing but a bad dream.

**So, how was it? I honestly had no idea what would come out of my fingers when I typed this, so let me know what you think. I have a rough idea of where this story is going, but ideas are always welcome!**


	4. Chapter 4

When Emily led her outside, Cammi shivered. She couldn't tell if the outside air was warmer than her frigid hiding place. The chill radiated from somewhere inside of her.

An ambulance was waiting in the driveway, along with several police cars and other assorted vehicles. Cammi had never remembered her driveway being this crowded. She wrinkled her nose when one of the EMTs made their way over to her.

"They just want to check you over," Emily said.

"There's nothing wrong with me they can fix," Cammi said, not really registering the chaotic scene around her. Looking down at her, Emily bit her lip. The girl seemed to be slipping into a catatonic state, becoming less responsive to everything she came in contact with. It was as if she was determined to join her family.

"Cameron." Kneeling in the driveway, Emily caught her glazed over eyes. "Whatever happens, you have to remember that this doesn't have to break you. You've been dealt a crappy hand, but you still have to go on living, understand?"

Cammi nodded absently, watching her breath curl and fade away in the chilly autumn morning. That was life, she mused. Here for a moment, gone the next.

As if sensing her morbid thoughts, Emily squeezed her hand. "Hang in there Cameron," she said.

"Cammi. That's my name. Not Cameron," Cammi said abruptly, fading back into silence. Elated to have drawn even a minute reaction from the girl, Emily resumed a standing position.

Watching from the SUV a few yards away, the corners of Hotch's mouth turned up in a mix of happiness and worry. He loved watching Emily interact with kids. She always seemed to know exactly what to do. And yet, he could see she was already becoming attached to the shattered teen. He had seen it before, in a case they had solved a year or two ago. Emily had reached the point of wanting to adopt the child, and he knew since then she had become a registered foster parent. He couldn't help the random warm thought that Emily would make a great mother someday.

The EMT was a young man with a bright face, despite the somber scene.

"We just need to make sure nothing's wrong with you and then you're free to go Miss Carroway!" he said in a failed attempt to be perky. Emily sighed.

_No_, Cammi thought fiercely, though she couldn't make her mouth work. When she didn't reply, the man reached for her hand, which was still encased in Emily's.

"NO!" Cammi shrieked. His eyes were brown. Something about them sent Cammi's fear into overdrive. She skidded backwards, pulling Emily along with her.

"I promise, I won't hurt you." The EMT reached for her again.

"I said NO!" Cammi's hand tightened around Emily's.

Glaring at the man, Emily pulled Cammi closer to her. "How about I ride in the ambulance with you to the hospital?" Something told her the last thing Cammi needed right now was to be sedated for being perceived as a threat.

Eyes closed, Cammi couldn't bring herself to nod. It should have been her mother there, holding her hand through this hell. Then again, if that were the case, she would be getting up to go to school, not potentially leaving her house forever.

Emily correctly read her facial cues and never let go of Cammi's hand as they loaded her into the ambulance. She may have received a few glares for being in the way, but she didn't care. Being an inconvenience took a back seat to a child's comfort.

When they arrived at the hospital, Cammi had calmed down enough for Emily to step out and talk to Hotch.

"I called Morgan to let them know this isn't a kidnapping case. Is she okay?" he asked.

Emily sighed. "Physically, I think she's fine. Emotionally, she's been given a heavy blow."

"We have to question her," he reminded gently. He knew Emily wouldn't like this. The girl, mature as she might have been before this, had been reduced to a young child needing her mother. She was in no condition to be interrogated.

"Now?" Emily burst, even though she knew the answer was yes. The memories were as fresh as they could be. To wait any longer would mean the possibility of missing evidence.

"Prentiss, her memories are still fresh," he said, as she'd known he would. "We have to catch the people that did this to her family, to her."

"I don't think she's ready," Emily offered weakly.

"She's no different from any other victim." Seeing the anger rise in her face, Hotch softened. "Emily, she'll never be ready."

The retort died on Emily's lips. Whenever Hotch reverted to her first name, she knew he wasn't speaking to her as the boss, but as the friends they had become. And that carried more meaning than anything he could've said.

Someone had turned on the television in Cammi's room. She watched the figures move on the screen, shapeless blobs she couldn't quite make out. Their dialogue flowed past her in a steady hum, which reminded her of the band room, all of the instruments before class warming up with different songs, creating a wall of disjointed noise that eventually just faded into the background.

A fresh pair of voices sliced through her mental fog. Emily and the man who she had introduced as she pulled her from the closet. For the life of her she couldn't recall his name. All that she could think of was that he had lost his smile, and his eyes carried a look more haunted than anyone she had ever seen before. It had lessened slightly when he caught sight of them, but not enough.

They were arguing. Over her. She couldn't imagine why. Instead she picked at a stray thread in her blanket, watched the IV fluid flow through the tube into her hand, and listened to the rise and fall of their voices. For some reason, it reminded her of music.

She wanted to stop it. Arguing was pointless when life could be snuffed in a minute. Cammi had almost formed a solid resolution to get out of bed when it stopped. Still, nobody entered her room.

_I have to get out of here, _she thought mildly. It wasn't a command yet. Just a random thought floating through her mind that she happened to catch. But when she did, it was like a seed. She nurtured it by carefully planning how she would escape the hospital. It was just like a TV show she'd recently seen, of a woman escaping a mental institution. The idea made her giggle.

The sound of her laughs startled Cammi. Her voice was hoarse, almost maniacal. She didn't mind. Actually, the sound was so unlike her that the situation was even funnier. She continued to giggle, and then stopped abruptly when she realized what she was doing.

_I suppose I'm crazy now_, she thought idly. Was that supposed to disturb her? She felt too disconnected from everything to care.

She was talking her heavy limbs into lifting themselves from her bed when Emily knocked lightly on her door. Cammi remained silent, not trusting her voice.

Emily was followed by the man with the sad eyes. Cammi scooted back into her headboard, not afraid exactly, but uncertain. She did notice he had brown eyes, which was unsettling, though she couldn't put her finger on why.

Emily took a seat on the edge of the bed. Cammi tried to match her smile, but it felt as if maybe she was grimacing instead. Emily patted her hand. Cammi loathed the pity in her eyes.

"I'm sure you don't want to talk about this right now, but we have to ask you a few questions," the man said.

"It will help us find out who did this to your family," Emily said softly. Cammi blinked. What did she have to offer that would be useful? She hadn't even been there when it happened. That simple fact was like a dagger in her side.

Her face must have shown willingness, because the man pressed on. "What do you remember about that night?"

"C…c…cold," Cammi stuttered. "I was cold. And mad."

"Why were you mad?"

A warm weight settled on her open hand. Emily was trying to provide comfort while she recounted the dreadful tale.

"I had been at debate. I c…called my mom and she didn't pick up." Cammi couldn't help but wonder if they had heard the phone ring, or if they were already dead. "I…I…I tr…tried ten times, I think."

The man nodded. "So you got yourself home."

Cammi's head bobbed up and down once. "I w…walked. I was scared they'd be mad. I was mad at them. I thought they forgot me." She couldn't tell if it was getting easier to talk.

"What time would you say you got there?"

Cammi tried to shrug. "Umm, maybe about eleven? Eleven thirty? I dropped my pack on the ground when I got there. Left it in the road."

"And then you walked inside," the man went on.

"And then I walked inside," she repeated robotically.

"What did you see?"

"Broken glass." Tears dripped down her face. "I thought Tommy had broken something. He's always doing that. Was. He was always doing that." Her body shook with harsh sobs. The past tense frightened her, and dragged her deeper into the abyss of depression she teetered on.

Emily opened her mouth to suggest that Hotch had pressed enough, but he shook his head. Turning back to Cammi, he said, "Did you hear anything?"

"Yeah. Something in my parent's room. I thought it was them. Or maybe not. I ran upstairs and I saw…" She shook her head, unwilling and unable to continue.

"Did you get a look at whatever it was?" Hotch asked, his voice gentler.

Cammi rapidly shook her head. "No, but when I came back down, something growled at me, and I ran. I ran! I should've done something!"

"There is nothing you could have done Cammi," Emily assured her. "Whoever was in that house was bigger and stronger than you. He would have overpowered you in an instant."

"But then I would be with them," she whispered. Never before had she wanted to die. The feeling terrified her.

"But you're alive," Emily said. "That may seem scary now, but it's a blessing. You're very lucky Cammi, even if it doesn't feel like it right now."

Cammi would rank that understatement of the year. "Just catch him," she whispered.

Squeezing Cammi to her once, Emily stood to leave the room. Fear washed over Cammi, and she whimpered.

"Could you maybe stay here? For just a second?"

Her heart ached for this poor girl. She had lost everything, in such a short time. Emily looked up at Hotch, who read the question in her pleading eyes.

"I'll go back to the station and update the team. You can join me in a couple hours."

"Thanks Hotch," Emily said. Cammi watched her watch him leave. Her gaze lingered on the empty space he'd once filled. If she had felt up to smiling, she might have. There was something more there.

"Will it ever get better?" she asked abruptly.

Emily mulled that over for a bit. "Well, I can't really speak from experience, but I like to believe it will."

Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, Cammi prayed that she was right.

**I would like to thank everyone who reviewed for their comments. They absolutely make my day! So, if you enjoyed this chapter or if you have any suggestions, again, I am very open to them!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Because it's been snowing for days on end where I live, school got cancelled. So, luckily for anyone enjoying this little story, I have time to post another chapter! Please review if you liked it. Your comments make me feel all fuzzy inside:)**

JJ and Rossi hadn't gathered much evidence from the families and neighbors. Considering there had been no survivors until Cammi, there wasn't anything to remember, as they had all been locked safely in their own homes for the night.

"The only connection I could really get between the families was that they were just that. Families," a frustrated Reid informed them. "Alyssa Sanchez and Dustin Jones were in the same grade at Sunset Falls elementary, but they weren't in the same class. None of the parents worked together, and none of the kids had the same activities."

"How many elementary schools are in this town?" Rossi asked.

"Just the one."

"Look into teachers, counselors, all of that. The Carroway kids are older, but they probably went to that elementary school too. The unsub could have made contact there. They might even have access to the addresses of the families."

Reid nodded, and Morgan stepped out to call Garcia with their latest idea.

"Where's Emily?" JJ asked suddenly.

"She's staying with Cammi at the hospital for a little while. The girl was shaken up," Hotch explained.

JJ nodded sympathetically. The child had just lost her entire family. She couldn't imagine how she would feel if she lost Henry. It was nice that Cammi had formed a bond with someone, no matter how weak or short lived.

"I'll work with the media to downplay some of this fear going around. We don't need a mass panic," she said, exiting the room.

Mass panic was already what was brewing. The local news broadcasted coverage of the most recent murder, standing outside of Cammi's house to report live. Few could be seen wandering the streets, and security systems were set up in more homes.

That wouldn't stop him though. He stood there watching them huddle a little closer together. They wouldn't let go of their children's hands. Didn't they know that once fate had chosen them, there was nothing they could do? They didn't deserve the perfect family they had.

He couldn't focus on them though. Not tonight. He watched the little family hurry away, slipping through his fingers.

_Not quite, _he thought. _They have one more night to continue living their little lie._

In fact, he had a few loose ends to tie up. When he closed his eyes, he could see it. That pair of wide ocean blue eyes peering at him from her window. Had he scared her? Had she been unable to sleep, and that was why she decided to seal her fate by seeing his face?

She was probably somewhere telling those meddling FBI agents everything she had seen. No, not if he could stop her. He had scared her enough, she might clam up. He had time. Not much, but time nevertheless.

Digging in the pocket of his coat, he pulled a faded picture from its depths. A pretty girl smiled back at him, with long brown hair that kissed her shoulders and blue eyes she had received from her mother.

"Don't worry Christie," he whispered, running the pad of his thumb over the photo in an almost loving caress. "I will avenge you."

Meanwhile, back at the hospital, Cammi was getting restless. Aside from a miniscule cut on her foot from when she'd stepped on the glass, nothing was wrong with her. She knew they were only keeping her here because they were at a loss as to where she would go.

Emily had asked, not too long ago," Do you have anyone you want me to call? An aunt, your grandmother? Anything?"

As far as Cammi knew, her father had been an only child. Both sets of her grandparents were dead and her aunt Laura, her mother's only sister, had died in a terrible drunk driving accident five years ago. She had no one.

"There isn't anyone," she had whispered hoarsely, struck with the reality of it all.

That's when Emily had gotten up, swearing she'd only be gone a few minutes. Cammi hadn't really noticed the time sliding by. She figured Emily was probably on the phone with Child Services, and as soon as they found the killer, she would be shipped off. After all, wasn't that what happened?

So when she heard the heavy pad of shoes on the tile floor, she figured Emily was back to offer a few reassuring words. Instead, she looked up into the grizzled face of a doctor she didn't recognize.

He offered a smile. "I'm just here to check you over."

Cammi raised her head to look properly into his eyes.

They were brown. Cold, soulless brown.

She opened her mouth to scream, but it wouldn't come out. The man shook his head.

"You saw me," he growled. "Can't have that, can we?"

Cammi reached for the call button, but he smacked her hand away. She had to find her voice! Cammi's heart slammed against her chest, her breath quickening by the second. He lifted a stray pillow from beside her head.

"Don't worry," he whispered, almost tenderly. "It won't hurt a bit."

_Like you hurt them? Why should I be so special? _Her mind shot.

It was then she found her voice. Cammi opened her mouth and screamed.

As soon as Emily heard the scream, she ran for the room. She had just hung up with a social worker, informing her of Cammi's situation. Even though she was just down the hall, it took her long enough to get to the room that all she found was a wild eyed Cammi clutching a pillow to her chest, staring at the broken window, and rocking back and forth on the bed.

Without asking what had transpired, Emily ran up to the window, scanning the wide expanse of forest behind the hospital. She sighed. This unsub was fast. If he had managed to make it that far already, he wouldn't be caught tonight.

Turning from the window, she walked over to the bed. Taking Cammi's chin in her hand, she forced the terrified girl's vacant eyes to meet hers.

"He was going to kill me," she breathed. "I don't want to die."

That much was comforting, Emily knew. She had already had her doubts about Cammi's will to live. As horrifying as her second brush with death had been, at least it was an eye opener.

"Shhh," Emily said, rubbing circles on Cammi's back.

"Can we leave?" she ventured. "It's not safe here."

They set about getting Cammi discharged from the hospital. Emily was taking her to the police station, where she hoped they would provide some form of protection.

Cammi, wrapped in her jacket, found it difficult to stare at the scenery before her. The wide expanse of land invited too many thoughts into her jumbled mind.

"We're going to meet the rest of my team," Emily said. "They're at the police station trying to catch this unsub."

"Unsub?" Cammi asked, finally showing interest in what Emily was saying.

"It means unknown subject. It's what we call the people who commit the crimes until we find out who they are."

Cammi nodded without speaking another word until someone pulled up to the curb to pick them up. Peering into the tinted window, she could just make out the profile of a man driving. She wondered briefly if it was Hotch, or if the introductions to Emily's colleagues would begin now.

She was proved correct when they got in. A well built African American man smiled at her as she climbed into the back seat.

"Cammi, this is Derek Morgan. He's a profiler like me. Derek, this is Cammi Carroway," Emily said.

"Hi Cammi."

Cammi didn't answer. She was too busy with her thoughts. He seemed nice. But, then again, many people seemed nice. Still, when he smiled at her, it wasn't in a creepy way. She decided to like him.

"So what do profilers do?" she asked.

"We analyze the behavior of criminals in order to catch them. It's a lot about reading facial cues, body language, and really looking into their actions to see why they do what they do," Emily answered.

Cammi froze. "So why do they?" She examined her fingernails, which she had bitten as far down as they would go. The habit was one she had broken, but the events of the past day had caught up with her.

"It's different for each one. But really, we don't know. It's something in their head, that isn't…well…right," Derek answered. He felt sorry for the poor girl averting her eyes from them. She just wanted answers. Answers that she just might never have.

Sunset Falls was small, and they arrived at the police station rather quickly. Cammi waited for Emily to get out, and then followed her, eyeing the roof of the building. For some odd, childish reason, she expected him to be up there waiting. After all, people seldom looked up.

She had always hated the police station. Her mother had instilled a warning to be cautious about law enforcement from an early age. Today, it filled her with a slight feeling of anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

When she walked inside, she saw the usual chaos she expected. Officers swarmed the place like ants, probably responding to the news Emily had delivered of the unsub's reappearance.

Derek and Emily led her to a small room off to the side, which was filled with agents as imposing as they were.

Emily pointed them out one by one in their varying states of business. "Cammi, these are Agents Spencer Reid, David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, and you've already met Hotch."

"I'm sorry most of us can't stay," the blonde woman Emily had introduced as Agent Jareau said with a kind smile. "But it was nice meeting you. You can call me JJ."

Cammi nodded, overwhelmed by the intense stares.

"Where's everybody going?" Derek asked.

"We're helping the locals with their patrol, and a few of us are going to question the guidance counselor at Sunset Falls Elementary," Hotch explained. "Garcia found some questionable things in his file."

Cammi raised her eyebrows. Mr. Franklin had always seemed like a harmless old man. Nothing to be worried about there.

"It wasn't him," she said quickly.

"Well, Rossi and I are going to ask you a few questions to find out who it really is. Meanwhile, maybe Mr. Franklin can help us find what we're looking for," Emily reassured her.

"The media is turning this into a frenzy," JJ said. "They're already working on names for him."

"What's wrong with a name?" Cammi asked suddenly.

"It gives the unsub a feeling of power, that people care so much to name him. And it causes a lot of fear."

"Like Voldemort," Cammi murmured, her old obsession shining through. JJ nodded, hearing her half whispered statement.

She watched everybody leave, and then steeled herself to begin the questioning.

**Did you like it? Tell me what you think! Any comment, no matter how short, is greatly appreciated. That reminds me… Thank you to anyone who has reviewed, favorited, or acknowledged this story in any way. You guys are awesome!**


	6. Chapter 6

**So since no school means nothing to do, I've decided to do the unthinkable. Post two chapters in a day! I'm really enjoying writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it too!**

Cammi fidgeted nervously in her seat. She didn't want to remember these things. It was too difficult. And yet she knew it needed to be done. So many times she had failed her parents in one way or another. She wouldn't allow this to be just another one of those times. She had to be a good daughter.

So far she hadn't remembered anything much. Just a retelling of her original story. Emily had said anything helped, but she knew she wasn't providing much assistance. Fear had clouded her eyes back at the hospital, and it seemed as if she had already blocked the man's face from her memory.

"Anything you remember helps. If you can't remember what he looked like try something else. Do you remember a smell, maybe?" Rossi asked.

"Ummmm…no. But he had brown eyes," Cammi remembered suddenly. "And he looked like he hadn't shaved in awhile…That's how I remember him!" she said suddenly. At the questioning looks of the agents, she pressed on. "I was coming home from band practice on Tuesday last week and I saw this car parked at the end of the road. I figured he was just there to see the neighbors, they always have strange cars around, but I'd never seen this one."

"Can you remember what it looked like?" she heard Emily asked. But her eyes were closed as she tried to visualize the car.

"It was small. Gray. A car. Not a minivan or anything like you hear normal creepers have. I didn't think much of it. I guess I should've," she said bitterly.

"You can't blame yourself Cammi," Emily said softly.

Cammi shook her head. "No. Three nights ago, I couldn't sleep. I thought it was too cold in my room so I went to shut the window. And there he was, watching me. I thought it was a nightmare, because the car was gone the next morning. But I remember his eyes. I looked right in them."

That had to be why he'd come back, Emily figured. He needed to eliminate witnesses. And, since Cammi had hidden from him before, he had to find her and silence her for good.

"So he's organized," Rossi observed. "That proves these aren't random. He's meticulous about his crimes, making sure he doesn't get caught. And he watches the victims for a few days."

Cammi flinched, so he trailed off.

"This is all my fault," she whimpered.

"But he wasn't prepared to kill her in the hospital," Emily said.

Cammi nodded. "He used my pillow. He didn't bring a gun or anything."

_What could that mean?_ Emily questioned.

"It means something about her unhinged him," Rossi said in the hallway a few minutes later. "We have to find out what importance she had to the whole thing."

"Maybe the unsub lost someone who looks like her?" Emily suggested. "A daughter, sister, something, and Cammi was just the replacement in his eyes."

"Sure, but then why doesn't he fixate on girls with Cammi's specific features?" Rossi asked astutely. "No, he's fixated on families, but Cammi has something to do with it too. Something he wasn't expecting."

Cammi watched them talk from the window. They'd obviously decided her reactions to what they said made it best for them to go out into the busy precinct. She didn't really mind, but she wanted to know what was going on.

Another need made itself apparent at that very moment. She was starving. The morning before her meet, she hadn't eaten breakfast, nerves dictated she skip lunch, and she hadn't brought money for dinner at the school where they competed. She had been planning on eating as soon as she walked in the door, but…suffice to say she had forgotten her hunger for the time being.

When Cammi was sick, she never felt like eating. This had to be a good sign, didn't it? She was beginning to feel better. Swinging her leg over the chair, she rose to find a doughnut or something. After all, this was a police station, wasn't it? She chided herself for thinking in stereotypes but went in search of food all the same.

As soon as she walked outside of the room, Emily handed her a doughnut wrapped in a paper bag.

"I thought you might be hungry, so I had one of the officers do a little hunting. You didn't eat lunch at the hospital."

"That's not food," Cammi informed her, taking a bite of the pastry. It was jelly filled, which she hated, but still, it was food.

Emily's spirits lifted hearing the girl crack a joke, as truthful as it was. She had to be regaining her sense of humor, at least a little bit.

"We have Garcia looking for any family members you might have," she said, hating to turn the conversation.

Cammi frowned. "Which one was Garcia?"

"Oh, you haven't met her yet," Rossi said quickly. "Which is probably a good thing."

"Well, there isn't anybody. Unless my parents have any long lost siblings, which I don't think they do."

Emily prayed they did. It would be a shame to see someone like Cammi enter the system. She was already so weak from what had happened. The wrong home might break her.

Someone handed Cammi a cup of hot chocolate, and she made her way back into the room that had been set aside for the BAU profilers. She noticed the map of her small town posted on the whiteboard, with different colored pins stuck every which way. Since she didn't have her iPod and there was nothing else to do, she stared at the map, trying to decipher the code.

Three of the pins were blue, and stuck to houses in different neighborhoods. She recognized one as her own.

_So these are the houses of the victims, _she thought, fighting back tears. She had babysat for the Sanchez family once. They had a little girl, Alyssa, who by now she figured was in first grade, and her two-year-old brother Juan. She didn't really know the other family, the Jones'. Crystal, her best friend, had known them though. Their neighborhoods were close enough. They had a boy and girl also. Dustin, who was Alyssa's age, and Nicole, a fifth grader. She supposed they were all bright, wonderful children like Tommy, who didn't deserve the short lives they had received.

She hadn't determined the other pins yet. She was fixated on those three blue dots on the map of her town. Three families broken forever. Seemingly no pattern except the type of families he picked. That wouldn't be much help, she mused. In Sunset Falls, plenty of families were like that.

The man…the unsub…he could've easily walked between their houses. Sunset Falls wasn't a large town. There were plenty of places he could work. She figured he wouldn't work nights.

_That's primo stalking time, _she thought bitterly. No, he probably had a normal 9 to 5 job. It was difficult to imagine him as anything more than a monster, but the cold truth had hit Cammi today. He was human, at least in outward appearance.

Questioning the guidance counselor had not gone well. He didn't match the profile. Just as Cammi had suspected, he was getting old, and no longer had the strength to pull of such complicated murders. She watched the team come back in, and took her seat in the corner while they discussed the next course of action.

"Well, the man was helpful at least," Morgan said. "He'd been there a long time so he gave us a list of past students who could fit our profile today. I don't think this guy has gone far. Something's keeping him here. I think he was born here."

Hotch nodded. "If we could figure out what that was…"

"Wait!" Emily said. "What if that's Cammi? Or whoever he's fixated on that looks like her. Whatever that was, it could've happened here, in this town."

At that moment, a woman appeared on the screen. Her bright red hair spoke volumes about her bubbly personality, as well as her colorful makeup. Cammi suspected this was the Garcia they had been talking about.

"Hello my superheroes!" she chirped. "I've found something really weird. Wait, who's that?"

Emily looked back at Cammi. "This is Cammi Carroway."

"Good, you found her! But that's kinda what I wanted to talk about."

Cammi slipped out of the room. She had a feeling she didn't need to hear this.

"So I went digging through deaths going back twenty years, looking for his trigger, and I found this." Garcia pulled up a picture of a smiling brunette who looked strikingly similar to Cammi. "So get this, about twenty years ago on the outskirts of that charming little town, a thirteen year old girl turned up dead. Official report says it was an accident. Girl slipped in the bathtub and drowned, but it looks very fishy. The house had been brought up on domestic abuse charges before, but nothing really stuck."

"What was the name Baby Girl?" Morgan asked.

"Wilson. The girl's name was Christie, and they had a son too, named Marcus."

"Any address on Marcus Wilson?"

"Nope. That's the other weird part. None at all. No credit card, job, anything." Maybe she was cocky, but she was surprised someone could disappear so well that she couldn't find them, especially in a small town.

"You'll find him," Morgan assured her.

Cammi couldn't help but overhear most of the conversation, even though she'd tried to avoid it. So some sicko's sister had died and now he was taking it out on innocent families? She couldn't fathom a psychosis that ran that deep.

What could she do? She couldn't just sit back and watch them search for this guy. She had to remember what he looked like. Closing her eyes, she took a sip of hot chocolate and willed herself back to that moment.

His eyes were brown, cold. But she'd known that. _Look somewhere else._ Okay, a jagged scar ran from the corner of his eye to his cheekbone. That helped. He was tanned from outdoor work. _Okay, you're on a roll Cammi._ He had been wearing work boots. Jeans. A white T-shirt with greasy gray stains on them, like the kind you get after you've been working on your bike for awhile. Maybe he was a mechanic?

"Are you okay?"

Cammi gasped, snapping out of her mental recollection when a hand fell onto her shoulder. She looked up into the warm gaze of Agent Jareau. _No, JJ, _she reminded herself.

"I…I think so," she sputtered, downing the rest of her hot chocolate in one gulp. Instantly, she felt a little better.

"Did you remember something?"

"Carl," she said. "The mechanic. This kid from school tells me he pays under the table sometimes. He probably wouldn't enter his employees in a computer, would he?"

JJ seemed unable to follow her train of thought.

"So," Cammi continued. "He pays in cash. No paper trail. Someone could disappear, theoretically."

"They figured out who the unsub was?" JJ had been out corralling the media, which hadn't been an easy task. They were jumping all over the story, like dogs over a piece of juicy meat. And they wanted an exclusive with the girl sitting beside her, piecing things together.

"His name was Marcus Wilson. I heard them talking and…" she trailed off.

"You couldn't help trying to remember more," JJ finished. "Well, why don't you go in with me and we'll see if Marcus is our killer."

Cammi nodded. A picture of him had already been displayed on the computer. One glance was all it took.

"That's him," Cammi said, her voice cracking.

**Okay, that wasn't my best, but I don't think it was bad either. I guess I've decided to wrap the case part up a little faster than I thought I would, so we can get to what happens to Cammi. I'm still planning a few twists though. **

**Reviews would be welcome!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for not updating in awhile. I had a research paper to write that was really kicking my butt. As a reward for turning it in, I decided to post this chapter. Weirdly enough, now that it's the holidays, I'll have way more time to write, so expect more frequent updates?**

Cammi watched the police station empty before her. Every single one of those officers was out to arrest the man who had destroyed her family. Agent Jareau had already made an appearance on the news stating that the individual in question should be considered very dangerous.

Strapping on their bulletproof vests, the team prepared to enter the ramshackle warehouse that someone had converted into a car repair shop. A robust man wearing a greasy white shirt and torn jeans stepped out of the shop, trembling hands raised over his head. Emily rolled her eyes. Someone had obviously been watching too many cop movies.

"Is Marcus Wilson here?" Hotch asked. The man, whom they assumed was the owner of the shop, shook his head.

"Haven't seen that bastard in weeks. Didn't expect him to be workin' here long anyways."

"Did he provide an address when you gave him the job?"

The man shook his head, finally lowering his hands. Emily watched Morgan take a few other officers in to search the premises before confirming what they already suspected. The SOB knew that they were on to him, and was skipping town before they could arrest him. And, since Garcia hadn't been able to find any other information on him, they were back to square one in terms of catching him.

A dejected Emily joined Hotch a few moments later in the SUV.

"We'll catch him," he assured her in a rare show of optimism.

"I'll just keep telling myself that," she replied with half a smile. "I just hate going back in there and telling that poor girl that we didn't find her family's killer."

He knew his next statement wouldn't make her happy, so he chose his words carefully. "You're getting really attached to that girl."

Emily shrugged. "It's easy for me to form connections with kids. I don't know why."

"Because you're good with them," Hotch surprised himself by admitting. It was true, very true, though he'd never said it out loud. "Just be careful."

Emily turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

Eyes still on the road, Hotch said, "Don't get too attached. When this whole thing is over, we have to go home and she had to go with whatever family Child Services can find."

Emily had been forming thoughts on that, though none she would like to voice aloud at the moment. She couldn't bear to see a girl as sweet as she knew Cammi could be shipped off to some foster home. In the experiences she had faced through her job, she knew those situations weren't always pretty.

Though what exactly could she do about it? That was what she was working on as Hotch took them through the winding streets of Sunset Falls.

Cammi watched the team file in the doors, trying and failing to conceal the dejected looks on their faces. She sighed. So somewhere Marcus Wilson was still running amok.

"He's a little slippery," Emily said in response to her sullen face, "but more often than not we catch them."

Never one for the glass half empty outlook, Cammi clung to the hope that they would.

Emily met Hotch at a cozy diner located near the hotel, and, well, everything else considering the size of the town. Dinner together had been the norm for them for awhile now, especially on the nights when Emily would watch Jack when Hotch's workload proved too much to handle if he still wanted to go home at a decent hour. However, it wasn't something they did on cases, at least not alone. Tonight the rest of the team had turned in early, sensing the turn this case would be taking. Emily herself had a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach, though she couldn't fathom why.

"I can't believe this," Emily huffed when she sat down. "He's probably right under our noses here. I don't get the feeling that he's gone."

Hotch shook his head. While they had no way of knowing for sure, there was a strange vibe around the town. He still felt the shadow seeping into cracks in the buildings, felt the chill that told him someone was laying in wait, just out of sight.

"He's probably holed up somewhere, waiting for us to stop investigating so close to him," Hotch suggested.

"What I don't get," Emily said, "is why he came back for Cammi. He had to know she couldn't be dead, and he definitely knew she was in the house. Why didn't he get her then?"

Hotch shrugged. "I think it's because she looks like his sister," he suggested. "Which means he'll probably be back. It's probably set off some sort of sick fantasy he has to complete. In fact, we could probably use her to draw him out."

Emily's eyes narrowed. She didn't like his train of thought. Not one bit. "We couldn't use her like that. It was bad enough to see her face when we were trying to question her. We can't put her in danger like that!"

Hotch put up his hands in surrender. "It was just a thought," he said. "And we would do it in a way that wouldn't put her in danger."

"Any way would be putting her in danger!" Emily said in exasperation.

"Still, that might be what we need to do to catch this guy," Hotch pointed out. "And isn't that what Cammi wants anyway?"

Back at the station, Cammi wrapped her hoodie tighter around her shoulders. She wasn't quite ready to go to sleep yet. She wasn't sure she ever would be. Every time her eyes closed, blood would stain her dreams. How could anyone possibly sleep with images like that invading her nightmares? She refused to see it again, refused to relive the worst night of her life.

Sipping a mug of hot chocolate, she stood. There was something on the window, and it was bothering her. Perhaps a smudge of dirt. Crossing the room in a few quick strides, she reached to wipe it off before discovering that the object of her distaste was in fact a sheet of paper taped to the outside, fluttering in the breeze.

_Christie,_

_I'm sorry our last meeting didn't go as planned. I want to see you again. How about tonight, by the cemetery on Cutler Street? If you meet me there, everything will stop, I promise. I just need to see you again. Don't let those cops follow you. I could never hurt you, you know that._

_Your brother_

Cammi allowed the note to fall to the ground. Who was Christie? The name sounded familiar. Maybe the agents had mentioned it during their investigation.

She wondered why the note had been left here, of all places. The only person who had set foot in this room for the past few hours was…her. What if the note was intended for her?

At once, Cammi made her decision. She would have to meet him. He was probably watching, waiting for her to meet him before staking out another family to kill. And if he thought she was someone else, someone he loved, he wouldn't hurt her. Really, nobody would lose. They would catch the guy and put him in jail and he would stop killing.

Cammi didn't indulge in thoughts other than simple instructions from her mind to her body on how to escape. Carefully, she propped open the window, raising a leg over the sill. Too easy. Landing delicately in a cluster of leaves, Cammi took off across the lawn. Cutler Street was a fifteen minute walk. If she hurried, she could meet him there before the police officers were any the wiser. Hopefully the agents would figure it out if things went south.

Besides, even if he did hurt her, would it matter? What did she have left to live for anyway?

**Well, even if it wasn't my best chapter, I'm planning more, and hopefully better, to come. Please tell me what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, I would like to take this opportunity to thank ****mrytale2-5**** for reviewing, as they were the only one who reviewed last chapter. Anyways, I would really like to know what you think so please, if you have time, leave a review! Happy Holidays to everyone and enjoy this next chapter!**

Cammi wished she had brought more than a hoodie to brave the chill of the night. Perhaps fear was what was making her shiver as well, but she tried to shove those thoughts to the back of her mind. In one way or another, this would be over tonight.

When she was younger, the cemetery had always scared Cammi. The ghost stories the older kids told her, the foreboding feeling she got in the pit of her stomach whenever they drove past, and all of those times she and her friend Crystal were dared to run through there on Halloween night had filled her with a sense of dread whenever she had to set foot in there. There was just that feeling hovering on the edge of her thoughts. The feeling that something was stirring beneath the ground she walked on.

This was no different that night. Cammi picked her way around the stones, careful to avoid stepping on the spot where anyone was buried except when necessary. She recalled a stone bench by one of the larger stones, toward the middle of the graveyard. She would wait there, Cammi decided with a resolute nod.

Cammi had just plopped herself down on the bench when she caught movement in her peripheral vision. She had to strain to make out the shadow in the inky blackness of a sky covered by clouds. Whoever it was, they were bent over a particular stone, and if she didn't know any better, she would say they were shivering. Cammi shrank against the bench, waiting for them to notice her. When they did, the figure began moving toward her with slow, almost calculating steps.

Emily had the sense that something was wrong almost as soon as she walked back into the precinct. It wasn't anything major, just a niggling twinge in the back of her mind that she could dismiss as worry about the case, or more specifically, for Cammi.

She hadn't meant to return. After all, Hotch had sent the team to the hotel almost two hours ago. But she'd forgotten a file about the case. She was certain it could wait until morning, but she knew sleep wouldn't come until she figured out whatever was bothering her.

Now that she was here though, she should pop in on Cammi. It was decided that she sleep here, with a few officers sticking around as guards. She waved to the policemen typing away at their computers. They didn't respond. Frowning, Emily headed for the room designated for the BAU team while they were here. The sheriff had mentioned before leaving that it would be best for Cammi to sleep there.

She wondered briefly if Cammi would be asleep. Emily knew stress of any kind kept her awake, and it appeared as though Cammi might be the same. She knew the girl had slept fitfully for brief periods, if at all, back at the hospital.

When she walked into the room and found it empty, Emily was hit first by surprise and then by worry. The police station wasn't large. She probably would have seen Cammi on her way in. Just to make sure, she searched the entire building, which took only a few seconds, then turned to the officers.

"Do any of you know where Cammi went?"

One of them shrugged. He was young, probably new to the job. "Just checked on her. She was sitting by the window, staring."

"How long ago was that?" Emily asked in a voice edged with anger.

Another shrug. "Maybe twenty minutes ago?"

Resisting the urge to yell at those idiots for leaving her so unsupervised, Emily whipped out her phone and began dialing. Hotch answered on the first ring. There was no hint of sleep in his voice.

"Hotch, I'm at the station. I think the unsub took Cammi."

There was a muffled curse word, then a rustling noise. "I'll get the others. Find out where he might've taken her. And Prentiss? We'll find her."

After assuring him that she'd heard, Emily took another survey of the room. Nothing seemed out of place. She sighed, until her wandering gaze fell on a torn sheet of paper lying on the ground. She picked it up, scanning the words with a speed almost worthy of Reid.

Had she seriously gone to meet this guy? What on earth would have possessed her to do that? Emily remembered the guilt Cammi seemed to have at not being there when her family was killed. She sighed. It would not do to get emotional. _Compartmentalize_, she ordered herself.

There wouldn't be enough time to wait for the others. This unsub had at least a twenty minute head start. Emily dashed out to her car, quickly receiving directions from one of the officers, who promised to follow her to the site. As Emily completed the short drive to the cemetery, she prayed that she would get there in time.

Cammi stood when the man approached her. Most of his face was concealed by a scarf, but she could see his eyes, the same soulless brown she remembered. She couldn't be certain, but she thought perhaps he was smiling under his coverings. The next thing she knew, he had gathered her in his arms, crushing her to a muscular chest. Cammi winced. He was strong. He used that strength to snuff lives out with one simple slash.

She was surprised when he set her back on the grass.

"Christie!" he shouted in a voice that could almost be described as normal. Cammi figured she should play along. After all, he would never hurt his own sister, would he?

"I'm here," she said, cursing her trembling voice.

"They told me you were dead. All of them. But you're not! I was right. You're right here Christie."

Cammi nodded. This guy was crazy. Tears were pouring from his eyes, disappearing into the black scarf surrounding the rest of his face.

"I missed you…Marcus," Cammi said, suddenly remembering his name. This only seemed to make him smile wider, though Cammi wasn't positive.

"Where have you been? I got away from Mom and Dad. They're gone now. I made it look like an accident. But they're gone. I've been waiting for you in the woods where we used to play. Remember when we pretended we had our own little world back there?"

Cammi nodded. She and Tommy had done the exact same thing when they were little.

"Where have you been?" the man asked again.

Cammi began to panic. "Ummmm… Looking for you," she said slowly. It wasn't entirely a lie.

"We can be together now. Without being scared. Now that they're dead. Christie, let's go. We can go back to our kingdom in the woods. Let's go." He extended a gloved hand.

"Wait." Cammi cleared her throat. "I heard you…visited some other people. You killed some families Marcus. Why?"

Marcus' hand dropped to his side, where it swung back and forth. Cammi imagined the knife he must have gripped. His face darkened. "They didn't deserve what they had. They pretended it was all okay but it wasn't!"

"It was," Cammi dared to say. "My…those families weren't like…ours."

"How do you know?" he demanded. "Christie, I told you. There's no such thing as a decent family. But who cares about them? Let's go!"

"You'll stop killing them though, right?" Cammi said.

"I don't need to. You're back Christie." He took Cammi's hand, much to her terror. Though, when she thought about it? How else was this supposed to go down? She had been stupid to come here without telling anyone. Blinded by her desire to do one last thing for her parents and brother. How could she avoid going with him?

Marcus paused when he had a grip on Cammi's trembling hand. Flipping it over to her palm, he peered at the skin. Cammi's breath caught in her throat.

"Where's your birthmark?" he asked, first curious, then enraged.

Cammi tried to pull her hand away. "It's dark," she forced out.

"It's not there," he reasoned. Pulling her closer, he met her eyes with his own. "You're not Christie!"

"I am!" Tears began to roll down Cammi's eyes.

"No you're not!" He shook her until her teeth rattled. Cammi saw the glint of a silver knife gleaming in his jacket pocket.

Turning her face away from him, Cammi thought desperately, _I don't want to die._

A chilling breeze whispered across the still cemetery. Emily got out of her car, searching for some sign of life. All of a sudden, an angry voice ripped across the night sky.

"You're not Christie!"

Kevlar vest forgotten, Emily was running toward the sound. Marcus held Cammi at knifepoint, despite her desperate protests.

"Marcus Wilson?" Emily called. Attention diverted, his head swiveled away from Cammi, seeking the person who had called his name. "I need you to drop your weapon and step away from the girl."

"She's not Christie!" Marcus yelled, digging his blade deeper. Cammi winced as it cut the skin on her throat. "I'll let her go once you bring me Christie!"

Emily winced as well. She was faced with an impossible situation. Marcus would never release Cammi until he saw his sister. A sister who probably lay beneath one of the tombstones here. She saw the police officers level a gun at Marcus, hiding themselves in the trees. She shook her head. With Cammi pressed up against him, they would never get in a good shot.

"Marcus," she cajoled. "Your sister is dead. You know that. But this girl doesn't have to die. Think about it. Would Christie want you to kill her?'

Marcus trembled. Cammi was able to meet Emily's eyes. Emily nodded almost imperceptibly at the girl. Everything would be all right. She had to believe it.

Cammi went limp in his arms. She had seen this tactic in movies and crime shows on occasion. Her dead weight, combined with Emily's question, was enough to slacken his grip just enough that she dropped to the ground unharmed. Cammi scurried away, just as a single shot split the night in two.

From the safety of Emily's arms, she watched the monster that had killed her family fold in on himself and crumple to the ground. His eyes were glassy, forever beholding the sky.

Emily gave a sigh of relief. The whole process had taken maybe ten minutes, but to her it seemed like hours. Seeing Cammi in that much distress had taken a toll on her, but that was nothing compared to what it had done to Cammi.

Emily knew that she would be okay, given time. The girl was strong. To face death, no matter how misguided her thought process was, was truly a brave thing.

Cammi turned her face up to Emily just as the team dashed into the cemetery. "Thanks for saving my life," she whispered.

"It's my job," Emily replied. She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she hadn't come back. No, she couldn't think like that. Cammi was alive, and that was what was important.

Cammi pulled away, dusting herself off. Emily watched her face, knowing exactly what she was thinking. In her experience, even if they never said it aloud, most survivors questioned why. She even found herself asking that question after particularly grueling cases. The answer was, no one really knew. People could guess at what made Marcus Wilson kill those people, what really motivated him. She and the team could analyze his every move, but the only person who really knew what went on in the mind of Marcus Wilson was the man himself. That's why she had learned to tell victims not to dwell on the why. Not knowing would eat them alive. Cammi would come to understand this in time, Emily was sure. And in whatever way she could, Emily would help her.

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know what you think. I really value your insight!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the lack of updates. Real life kind of caught up with me and I had to straighten that out before I even thought about writing. I'm also pretty caught up in writing an actual novel, so that takes up a huge chunk of my time. But I hope I won't neglect this story for so long next time! This is kind of a filler chapter while I get back into the flow of this story. I hope you like it!**

Emily hated funeral. Well, she supposed few people actually enjoyed them. This one was making it incredibly difficult to compartmentalize as she watched Cammi throw herself into whatever preparations she could make for the service. The girls' chilling brush with death had snapped her out of her funk and propelled her life forward. Cammi had become chattier with the team, who she had been spending an increased amount of time with simply because she had nowhere else to go except the police station. She also began to busy herself with simple tasks. It was a coping tactic Emily knew well because it was one she often turned to.

With the aid of people in her community, Cammi had set up a nice funeral service, as nice as one of those could be. The weather had decided to comply and sun streaked through the cemetery.

The BAU team had been known to stay behind and attend the funerals of the victims before. Digging so deeply into their lives, the profilers often became attached to the victims whose killers they strived to catch. And Cammi had taken Emily aside that morning and specifically asked them to stay.

_(Flashback)_

_Emily had been pouring herself a cup of coffee in the police station, watching the sunrise paint the dull gray sky, when she heard the soft click of a door handle turning. Expecting Hotch, who usually arrived earlier than anyone, she was mildly surprised to see Cammi blinking sleep from her eyes and stuffing her hands in her pockets._

"_Ummmm, I know you guys are leaving and all, but I was wondering…ummm… The funeral for my parents is today and…well, you probably have more sickos to catch, but…" She trailed off, simply giving up on completing a coherent sentence and praying the profiler would be able to deduce her question._

_Emily smiled, hoping to comfort the girl. They weren't due to leave until later in the afternoon anyway, and if her plan went through, she might have to remain longer to finalize things. She didn't know about the rest of the team, but she would be happy to attend. _

_It was Emily who had taken the time not spent wrapping up the case to talk to the girl, assuaging her fears and answering questions. At first, Cammi had been shy, but soon her inquiries burst from her like a flood. The two had formed sort of a bond; one neither was quite willing to watch severed when they went their separate ways._

"_I'll be there," she assured the younger girl. _

_Cammi visibly relaxed. "I guess…it's just…I don't have family and my one and only friend is off somewhere sunny and unreachable so…"_

"_You feel alone," Emily finished._

_Cammi lowered her head to look at the floor. "Yeah, so thanks for saying you'll come."_

To Cammi's surprise and delight, the entire team had come to the funeral and Emily and Hotch stood beside her while the priest droned on. Cammi liked Hotch. He was the strong and silent type, like her father. She figured he had kids himself, because he was comfortable around her, more so than the others.

She couldn't bring herself to watch the coffins being lowered into the earth, nor could she bear the finality of soil landing on the wood. She tensed when she felt Emily's hand slip into hers, but looked up and smiled gratefully.

Most of the proceedings were a blur and she was grateful when the mourners filed out of the cemetery and to their cars. It struck her that she had nowhere to go tonight. She supposed Child Services would come for her soon and she would bid her hometown goodbye. Resigned to this fact, her shoulders slumped.

"Are you okay?" Emily asked, genuine worry exuding from her voice.

"Yeah. Just thinking about what happens next."

JJ shot Emily a look. The two friends had discussed this the night before when they were told that they were no longer needed and could leave.

_(Flashback)_

_JJ was leaning against the brick wall of the police station when Emily came out, the perfect position to ambush her friend. She had watched Cammi and Emily get closer over the past few days and, while she wasn't a profiler exactly, it didn't take a genius to figure out what Emily was planning next._

_Pushing herself from the wall, she matched Emily's pace as they walked to the SUV. Emily knew this had been coming. She'd seen the looks JJ had been giving her after Cammi had left for the evening. She knew the blonde would want to talk to her, and had been avoiding her so far successfully for that very reason. However, she couldn't put this off forever._

"_We almost lost her back there JJ," she sighed._

_JJ nodded. This was the perfect segue into what she wanted to talk about. "Yeah. Seems like someone's getting a bit attached."_

"_Maybe," Emily admitted. It would do no good to lie._

"_I stand by what I said last time this happened. You would make a great mom."_

"_Thanks." Emily paused for a moment before continuing. "I want to take her back to DC with me. I'm a registered foster parent. I could do it."_

"_I don't think I really need to tell you this, but you have to realize what you're getting into. It won't be easy, especially with this job."_

_Emily nodded her agreement slowly. She knew JJ had a valid point. Raising a child, even for only a few years and one as mild as Cammi appeared would not come easily. Emily would have to go away often and she would have to make arrangements for Cammi. Not to mention the horrible experience the girl had just been put through and would need help in overcoming. No, it wouldn't be easy._

_But something told Emily it would be worth it._

"Cammi." The girl flinched when Emily touched her shoulder.

"Um, thanks guys. For everything," she mumbled, turning to leave.

"Cammi, can we talk for a second?"

Cammi's eyes narrowed slightly. Emily, usually calm and stoic, had anxiety written all over her face. A thousand explanations flitted through Cammi's mind, but she discarded them all. The two of them shuffled over a few feet to give the illusion of privacy. Emily took a deep breath.

"You know that since you have no living relatives, Child Services is going to place you with a foster family."

Cammi nodded. The fear in her face nearly broke Emily's heart.

"So you're telling me they found a place for me?"

"Well, that's the thing. They haven't. And I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me."

**Reviews are amazing!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I was checking my inbox finally and I found a ton of reviews that inspired me to write my next chapter. Thanks for your input to anyone who reviewed! **

"What?" Cammi shuffled backward, still staring at Emily. She had been steeling herself for what was to come ever since this mess had begun, but never in her musings had she come up with this potential outcome. As helpful and comforting as it had been to have the profilers around, Cammi had been expecting them to leave on their big fancy jet as soon as every loose end was tied up and tucked away.

Emily didn't repeat the question, only focusing dark brown eyes on Cammi. Snapping her gaze away, she surveyed the faces of the other members of the team. None of them looked surprised. They had all seen this coming. In fact most of their faces were blank, expressing nothing but patience and understanding.

There was only one answer to this question, right? Cammi had never been comfortable with facing the unknown. Her life had been built around rules and routine, and the past few days had sapped most of the strength she possessed. Of course, she only had two options. One, wait to find a foster family in who knows what city and a situation she could hardly fathom. Or there was always option two, which was go to DC with Emily, someone she had become close to over time.

Either way, Cammi's life would be in turmoil. Either way, the winds of change threatened to knock her flat on her face. But she had the feeling that with the BAU team, she was among friends, if not a fledgling family. And how could she give that up, when the only family she had ever known was lying forever beneath the ground she stood on?

Taking a deep breath, Cammi turned from the expectant faces and settled her wandering eyes on the tombstones in front of them. She could hear her mother now, telling her that it would all be okay.

_If she can't be here, then she probably would send someone like Emily to do it for her, right?_ Cammi thought wistfully. She had never been particularly religious, but at that moment, she believed that somewhere, there had to be a God. She had to believe it, for their sake.

Turning back to Emily, she nodded carefully. "Yeah. But can you really do that?"

"Sure. I talked to your social worker and we're getting all the paperwork drawn up. You can fly back with us today, or you and I could stay a little longer and get your stuff ready to go," Emily replied, trying to contain her joy. She and Cammi had gotten close over the last few days and she couldn't imagine what she would have done if the teenager had refused her offer. And her profiling skills deduced that Cammi was just as overjoyed to have received such and offer.

As for Cammi, now that she had a semblance of a plan in place for her future, was itching to leave the past behind. She felt as though her hometown was suffocating her in its familiarity. Everywhere she turned, she saw something that reminded her of her family.

"Ummm, if we can just leave, that would be great. I just need to run…home and pack some clothes." The very idea twisted her stomach into knots. But she had to go back. She had to walk in that door one more time and collect whatever memories he had left untainted.

Reading the fear in Cammi's pale face, Emily took her by the hand. "I'll go with you," she said.

The house was silent and still when they walked up the driveway. A strip of police tape half attached to the door fluttered like a banner in the breeze. Do Not Cross. Cammi gulped, running her fingers over the smooth plastic.

"We don't have to go inside if you don't want to," Emily said. "We can get new clothes in DC."

"No," Cammi sighed. "I have to do this."

Emily had to admire the young girl's determination. It mirrored her own. In fact, she saw a lot of herself in Cammi in the way she threw up a wall of compartmentalization once she caught her bearings and in the way she seemed so desperate to prove herself. Already Cammi was putting herself through so much, just to assure herself of her own strength. It was a habit Emily found herself returning to often over the years.

She gave the girl some privacy once they were inside. The two made their way up the stairs, and Cammi veered off into her own bedroom. Keeping her in her line of sight, Emily strolled through the hallway between Cammi's room and her brother's.

The walls were plastered with framed family photos, candid shots that were somewhat blurred and professional portraits that appeared to be done yearly. Emily took in the smiling faces and familial closeness. She always envied people with that type of bond. Emily herself had never quite known what it was like to be in a real family, with love and support, until she met the team. And even then it wasn't quite the same.

She supposed that was what taking Cammi in had been about, at least partially. She wanted to have that mother daughter bond with someone and Cammi had needed someone to at least attempt to fill some parts of that role.

After looking at every picture and mourning the loss of Cammi's family for her, Emily turned back to check on the girl herself. Cammi had paled considerably and was clutching a bright yellow top in trembling fists, trying not to break down. Taking slow and careful steps, Emily made her way across the hall and into the bedroom.

Blinking, Cammi looked up at Emily. "This was my mom's favorite shirt on me. She always said I wore too much dark clothing."

"She would be proud of you," Emily said with a soft smile. Nodding, Cammi's lower lip trembled. She inhaled deeply and schooled her face into something that resembled calm.

"I know. I'm almost done and then…can we just get out of here?"

Emily nodded. Cammi flitted around her room, tossing a hair straightener, a few CDs, some clothes, and photo albums into a suitcase already brimming with items that didn't appear to belong to her. A men's leather jacket, a faded baseball glove, and an art kit lay among a few other things.

"They're just stuff to remember them by," Cammi whispered unnecessarily. "There are just so many stories behind this stuff I couldn't just leave it here to rot."

"I understand." Emily matched Cammi's tone. Upon hearing her voice, Cammi looked up again.

"I think I'm ready to leave now."

That was partly a lie. Cammi would never leave this place entirely. Too much of her was tied up in this old house, in this town, and forever would be. But now, she would take the next step into whatever the future held.

**Not sure I liked how this turned out, but I had to write it anyways. Tell me what you think!**


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